The next five days felt like a hundred to Elizabeth. They moved slowly, as if the hands of time were caked in suet. There was a morning when, kept indoors by the weather, she had watched the parlour maid polish the grate for a full hour. She had envied the girl’s occupation, wishing for something more industrious to do than needlework. She had briefly considered offering her help and getting down on her hands and knees with the blackener and might have actually done so if she did not think Mrs Mountford would heartily disapprove. She had too much energy and nothing to expel it on. She visited frequently at Milsom Street to see Georgiana but had not a sight of Mr Darcy. When she at last gathered up the courage to enquire after him, Georgiana told her he had gone away to visit friends just outside of Bath. Elizabeth wondered whether her face might have betrayed her dismay at this news because Georgiana hastily added that he was expected back within a few days.
A further source of consternation was the silence and absence of Mr Yorke. She was desperate to talk to him and make her decision clear, to settle things. She hoped he would take the news well and his disappointment would not be too great. However, she was beginning to suspect his recent lack of attention meant he might not be as heartbroken as she had formerly expected. She went with Georgiana to the Pump Room, the library and the gardens without a single sight of him.
Then, he produced himself in the drawing room at Milsom Street, while she and Georgiana had been lounging around laughing at a particularly bad volume of poetry. They sprang to their feet and straightened their skirts when his name was announced. He entered, bowed and smiled at Georgiana and then turned to Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, I had not expected to see you here.”
“I hope the surprise is not an unpleasant one, Mr Yorke?”
“Of course not.” He looked embarrassed, laughed and sat down awkwardly on the corner of a sofa.
There followed a quarter of an hour’s chatter of the most formal and banal variety. Refreshment was offered and refused. Elizabeth was mostly silent and inattentive. She sat hoping some circumstance might spirit Georgiana out of the room and wished she had taken her friend into her confidence to be able to arrange it so.
Mr Yorke asked after Miss Bingley.
“Oh, she has gone to call on an acquaintance on the other side of town.” Georgiana told him.
“Ah, I see.”
When he got up to leave, Elizabeth saw an opportunity. “I am leaving myself, Mr Yorke, might we walk part of the way together?”
“Oh, I fear I am going in quite the opposite direction to Laura Place, Miss Bennet. Good day ladies.” He was gone so quickly as to make them think he was afraid he might catch the pox from them.
“How odd,” Georgiana muttered as he went through the door.
The lack of liveliness in their lives was so pronounced that by Friday Mrs Mountford, in a fit of resolve to invigorate them, declared there really had not been enough dancing of late and so they were bound for the Upper Rooms. The Earl and Lady Fitzwilliam had begged off due to the Countess having a heavy cold. Georgiana and Miss Bingley were called for and the carriage bumped along carrying a great deal of lace, silk and jewellery - and four companions, all in very different spirits. Miss Bingley seemed ebullient but about what no one knew, or cared to ask. Mrs Mountford was thoughtful. Elizabeth was depressed at the thought of dancing with men who were not Mr Darcy and Georgiana was agitated. It was not until they had arrived and were securing their cloaks at the entranceway that the source of Georgiana’s anxiety could be relayed to Elizabeth in private, and she was pulled aside for the purpose.
“Do you remember my odd visit from Mr Yorke?”
“Of course.”
“Well, he came again yesterday, and today. Elizabeth, it pains me to say such a thing but as your friend, I feel I must tell you my fears.”
“Go on.”
“It was almost as if, well, he was paying me some attention. Why come so regularly if not?”
“You think he wishes to engage your affection?”
“Oh, is it wrong of me to say so?” Georgiana was wretched and Elizabeth caught and stroked her hand.
“Not if you think it is the truth.”
“But not a week ago he seemed so sincerely devoted to you. You will not hate me for it?”
“You have done nothing to wound me. The offence, if there is one, is his. Do you like Mr Yorke?”
“Well, that is the confusing thing. You see…”
Before Georgiana could say anything further they were interrupted by a lady of their acquaintance who greeted them, gave Elizabeth’s shoulder a pat and bestowed on her a look of great pity. “Men are such beasts are they not? You bear your disappointment bravely, my dear. If it were me, I would not step out of the house for a month for embarrassment.” With this she walked off leaving Elizabeth bemused – but she resolved to take what enjoyment she could from the evening and think no more of it. However, the further they went into the assembly, the more she heard of her ‘disappointment’. Whispers surrounded her. ‘Yorke has declared he never was attached, but of course it’s a lie’, ‘oh, I know, because we all saw how they were together’, ‘they walked all over town, always in each other’s company, and now he speaks of her as if she is nothing’, ‘she was waiting for his offer, poor thing, and now nothing will come of it’.
Being the object of so much pity and gossip was mortifying to Elizabeth and then there came the indignity of being faced with the gentleman himself, who saw her, looked through her, blushed and turned away without a word. The Miss Yorkes kept their distance also, but offered her brief apologetic nods. She had been very publicly cast off.
Georgiana and Caroline Bingley were almost immediately asked to dance. Her rejection by Mr Yorke appeared to have tainted her somewhat and she was forced to sit out the first two dances - not a fate she was accustomed to. Mrs Mountford circulated the room with ease, as she always did. Elizabeth might have joined her but she was not in the mood for conversation and was afraid she might be the recipient of yet more unwanted sympathy, so she kept to her chair. Georgiana returned between sets to declare she would not stand up again unless Elizabeth was intending to. Elizabeth encouraged her back to her partner, assuring her all was well. Her new and dear friend was grieved for her which made Elizabeth’s misery even worse.
Mrs Mountford came back to sit beside her. “Would you like me to take you home?”
Elizabeth straightened her back, “certainly not.”
“Quite right, do not give him the satisfaction of having scared you off.”
Elizabeth sighed. “You may now tell me you told me so.”
A chuckle escaped Mrs Mountford. “Remind me of what it was I told you.”
“That I ought to be more careful when encouraging and accepting his attentions, because as you guessed correctly, I had no notion of marrying him. I had not imagined this end, but nothing good was ever to come of my toying with him. You may go off and talk with your friends. I shall remain here and accept my punishment.”
“This is about your supposed poverty, Elizabeth. Maybe I should settle a dowry on you. He has not withdrawn from you because of any lack of admiration. Even now, he secretly looks your way. If you wanted him back, he might be yours still.”
“No, madam, I do not wish for a dowry. You have been far kinder to me than I deserve already. I just so hate that everything is dictated by the question of money.”
“Tis the way of the world, except in those cases where there is plenty of it to go around. Then everyone may fall in love with impunity, just as they please.”
Mrs Mountford did return to her acquaintance after a while, leaving Elizabeth very much the wall decoration and growing increasingly conscious of her solitary state and the curious looks of those who passed her. She was becoming very low as she remained there and was starting to consider changing her mind about Mrs Mountford’s offer to take her home, when her rescue came in the most surprising form; a familiar, and now most beloved, form. He walked towards her with a firm and determined tread and bowed. He took her hand from her lap, brought her to her feet and took her to the set. Not just to the set in fact, but the front of it, without saying a word.
“What on earth are you doing here?”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “Dancing, it would seem.”
She laughed. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I meant I did not know you were even returned to Bath.”
“I arrived just after you had collected Georgiana. I decided very much on a whim to join you.”
Their hands touched in the dance, a quick clasp. Elizabeth’s heart hammered so loudly in her chest that she was sure he would hear it. They were separated briefly by the movements and then returned. Another quick clasp was required and she wished for a thousand more of them. “You ought to be careful, Mr Darcy, I wouldn’t want to sully your impeccable reputation. I find myself the subject of gossip tonight.”
“I have heard it. Gossip is a transient, ephemeral thing, Miss Bennet. One subject may be forsaken for another quite easily. I have always tried to avoid being the object of it myself, but tonight I see the benefit of perhaps creating some. I very rarely dance. I intend to dance twice with you. The second being the supper dance. Do you think that might suffice?”
He was a dear, dear man. How had she ever thought badly of him? She cocked her head to the side. “Hmm, I am not sure. If you wanted to keep tongues truly busy, perhaps you ought help me on with my cloak and maybe kiss my hand when you bid me goodnight.”
It was brazen, forward of her and she saw his jaw twitch and feared that while he had meant merely to be gallant, she had positively flirted in return. She cursed herself, she was not good at flirting – teasing, contradicting, provoking people on the other hand she excelled at!
He was silent for a good long while before quietly replying, “gladly”.
She smiled at the floor, embarrassed. “Do you know, Mr Darcy, I once promised never to dance with you, and now I have done so, not once, but twice.”
“Did you really hate me so much?”
Her head shot up again and she gave him a grave look. “I’m afraid I did. I quite delighted in despising you. You were such a great outlet for all my general annoyances. In fact, it is very inconvenient to not be able to hate you anymore. You make yourself far too agreeable these days, Mr Darcy.”
He looked a little relieved to have her tease him again, it felt like safer, more familiar ground. “I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet. Is there a way in which I might make amends? Some way I might offend you? I am your humble servant, willing to outrage you at a moments’ notice. I could perhaps stand around silently in the corner and ignore you for a full half hour? Oh, you see now I regret asking you to dance, you would have much preferred it if I had slighted you.”
“You did not ask me to dance.” She pointed out.
“Did I not?” He was thoughtful for a moment. “No, I have rather dragged you up here against your will. I hope you will not take it as further proof of my ungentlemanlike behaviour, or my selfish disdain for others?”
She was sombre then, pained and saddened. “Please do not remind me of what I said then. I have long been ashamed of those words.”
He became serious too. “You should not be! What did you say of me that I did not deserve, richly deserve? Your accusations were ill-founded on mistaken premises but my behaviour towards you was unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence. You know not, you can scarcely conceive how your words have tortured me all these years. The turn of your countenance I shall never forget, as you said that I could not have addressed you in any possible way that would induce you to accept me. I have long wanted the opportunity to apologise.”
“These recollections will not do at all,” she said firmly. “I should hope we have both improved a little in civility since then. You should learn a little of my philosophy, think only of the past as it gives you pleasure.”
The dance stopped, they had joined it late and so it was over quickly and Elizabeth was dismayed. He looked as if he might have said more. She wanted to say more, but all the couples had begun to move away. He took her hand to lead her back to Mrs Mountford. Elizabeth was not sure if she imagined it, but liked to think he had squeezed her fingers a little as they fell into step together. Oh how frustrating it was to be a woman in such circumstances. Why was she not allowed to lead him into a dark corner, to reach up and whisper in his ear; to tell him of how her feelings had changed since that awful day in Kent, to tell him that now, rather than his being the last man in the world she could be prevailed on to marry, he was the only man she could possibly marry.
He politely enquired after her comfort and suggested she might like some punch. She nodded in reply. As Mr Darcy left, Georgiana hurried up to her, her face shining with happiness and looking prettier than Elizabeth had ever seen her.
“How lovely to see you and my brother dancing, Elizabeth. You look so well together.”
“It was very kind of him to come to my rescue. I was feeling quite ostracised.”
“I think it was borne out of more than kindness.”
Elizabeth looked sternly at her. “Now, do not run on so, imagining things that are not likely to come to pass.” As she spoke she realised it was a warning to herself also. Mr Darcy’s words to her had been intimate, they had flirted it was true, but still she was not sure of him. They had spoken of the past, not the future. She still didn’t dare to dream, fearing the crushing disappointment that might follow.
Georgiana continued to smile at her. “I am just saying you are quite a striking couple, is all. I never saw him dance with Anne. Not once. And yet he is such a good dancer.”
“He is.” Elizabeth conceded.
“You don’t know how much pleasure it would give me to call you sister.”
“Georgiana! Enough!” Elizabeth cried, but then with a raised brow and a mischievous glint her eye, added “goodness me, if this is the response a single dance gives rise to, I hate to think what you will be like when he takes my hand for the supper dance.”
Eyes wide, Georgiana was about to break into further raptures when she was quieted sternly by Elizabeth due to the arrival of Miss Bingley.
“Eliza, my dear. How are you baring up? Frederick Yorke has asked for my hand for the next, the impudent scoundrel. I couldn’t say no of course, I wouldn’t want to sit down for the rest of the evening, but I shall not enjoy it, on your account, I assure you.” Despite these words and seemingly in direct contradiction of them, she turned around and gave Mr Yorke a teasing wave.
Mr Yorke wandered warily across the ballroom in their direction. As he reached them, Elizabeth felt the comforting, reassuring presence of Mr Darcy draw closer too, till he was beside her. One hand passed her the promised glass of punch, his other hovered with a gossamer touch near the small of her back. She felt his protection, his concern. He greeted Yorke tersely who paused in their company only long enough to give Elizabeth a brief nod, before he spirited Miss Bingley away.